


napkin

by pengo_o



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), K-pop, YG Entertainment | YG Family
Genre: Angst, Bleugh, Extended Metaphor, Gen, I got bored, No Relationship, No Romance, Probably Makes No Sense, Random & Short, ahdwdwjbjld, eeh look at me with my fancy english skillz, i blame the pretty serviette that i was sitting next to for an hour, idk - Freeform, it could apply to literally anyone, it's basically about the pressures of being an idol, sorry - Freeform, the other members are here too but only for about a split second, the rest of the time they're just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:14:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17431916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengo_o/pseuds/pengo_o
Summary: napkin (n.): a square piece of cloth or paper used at a meal to wipe the fingers or lips and to protect garments.or:word vomit about a napkin.





	napkin

**Author's Note:**

> vahgbudgiuoaehou i really don't know but hey thanks for clicking on it i suppose?? 
> 
> disclaimer: i don't own these people - they are reeeeeeaaaaaal and sadly nothing to do with me

jennie’s eyes are transfixed on a napkin. the others are giving her odd looks, but she doesn’t care.

it’s beautifully patterned. its pristine white, soft silk adorned with intricate yellow, red, blue and green mandala circles that have been sewn in by hand with delicate, fine thread make her not want to even touch it. it was almost as if it was made just to be looked at. to be shut up into a thick, glass box where people just admire it from a distance. that way, nobody could touch it. it would be sitting there, probably on a quartz pedestal, encased in fine glass - not to be touched, but to be looked at. to be admired.  
jennie reaches out and picks up the napkin, the silky, smooth feel of it on her fingertips causing goosebumps to litter her skin, and a shiver to drip down her spine like a drop of icy water.

turning it over in pure curiosity, she sees a dark beige. no intricate, hand-sewn mandala circles, no pristine, white silk. just beige. boring, plain, beige cloth. nothing more. it even has a couple of spots of dirt on it. turning it over again and again, jennie finds it difficult to believe that it’s the same object. the same silk napkin that jennie previously thought ought to be viewed and admired from every angle. perhaps only the white side adorned with hand-sewn mandala circles with fine, delicate thread ought to to be encased in thick glass to only be admired from a distance. not to be touched, but to be looked at. to be admired.

but the beige side can’t be stripped from the patterned - the whole cloth would be ruined that way. the napkin would need to be laid down extremely precisely on the quartz pedestal encased in fine glass to not expose the beige side to elicit the distant applause from the faraway audience. not to be touched, but to be looked at. to be admired.

_just like her._

she looked good. from an angle, at least, and she needed things to be focusing on the “right”, part of her to look good. to _elicit the distant applause from the faraway audience._

she’s admired, isn’t she? she sings, raps and dances for the entertainment of others. she and three other beautiful girls go on a stage, where swooping lights blind them from all corners of their vision and the screams of the audience strive to drown out their voices. and they’re there. not to be touched, and not to be spoken to. just to be looked at. to be admired.

but the cheers and screams of the audience are _still so distant._ they’re right in front of them. encouraging them. but they’re so far away. they think they like what they see, but maybe they don’t. maybe they’re just blind to see their other side. their boring side. their flawed side. their beige side. they don’t see it. they can’t see it. and jennie doesn’t blame them for that - their boring and flawed side isn’t shown.

they’re laid out on that pristine quartz pedestal delicately. they’re encased in fine glass. not to be touched, not to be talked to, but to be looked at. to be admired. and sometimes, people have to smooth out some creases, big or small, every once in a while, because if that napkin was creased, then it is possible that the beige side could be more visible than usual. their boring side. their flawed side. the side that, perhaps, won’t _elicit the distant applause from the faraway audience._ and if one person were to expose their beige side, the rest of them are turned over too.

but what if the glass breaks?

**Author's Note:**

> for reading this, you are roarsome. 🦖 
> 
> hehehehhehehhhehehe i'm hilarious
> 
> but no seriously thanks for clicking on this and reading this it means a lot <3


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